


zwei linke hände haben

by bicarolina



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, i dont care about ironwood's characterization, order mix-ups, tai barely exists, this takes place after everything is over i hate canon, weiss is more than happy to help her clean them up, yang breaks things a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23944615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bicarolina/pseuds/bicarolina
Summary: There's a bit of a mix-up with Yang's new arm.
Relationships: Weiss Schnee/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	zwei linke hände haben

Yang doesn’t mind running around with only one arm, truly. It’s not very convenient, but she can do most of what she did before, save for a few intricate things. She can also still fight, just not quite as well as with two.

She likes to think that if she had lost her arm during the final fight, she would’ve been fine without getting a replacement, but gods does it make her life so much easier. 

This thought comes to her while staring at a broken glass on the floor in the kitchen. She’d left her arm with Penny, asking her if she could have her dad fix it, and Yang emphasized that there was no rush on it. Did she regret that now? Maybe a little bit, but she’d rather be on Patch armless than try to navigate through Atlas with Weiss in tow, trying to avoid the millions of questions about the SDC and what happened and exactly how the world is not producing more Grimm.

She likes how the kitchen is laid out. The island serves as a sort of half-wall between the kitchen and the dining room. It’s very open, and she’d never really taken the time to appreciate the design before leaving. She has sat her butt on every single countertop, mostly just because she likes sitting higher up. She remembers a lot of times spent doing homework at the kitchen table or working on her gauntlets and losing bolts on the floor, Ruby sitting on the table and leaning over her hands to watch. 

She moves her foot just a hair and pain shoots up her leg.

“Ah, hell,” she grumbles. She’d forgotten about the glass on the floor. She walks backwards, just to avoid getting more glass in her foot, and bumps into Weiss. “Sorry, snowflake.”

“You’re bleeding,” Weiss says casually, pointing at her foot. Of course she was. “Drop a knife?”

“Dropped a glass. Would you mind helping me clean it up?”

“Of course not. I’ll get the broom if you want to pry the chunk of glass out of your foot in the meantime.” Weiss pats her cheek before heading off to the closet, and Yang settles herself at the dining room table, ankle resting on the edge as she inspects her bleeding foot.

She remembers the first time she’d broken a glass, how incredibly horrified she’d felt, Adam’s face flashing in front of her as the glass collided with the floor. She’d felt so alone then, left behind because her sister could work through her problems. She’s better now, of course, and definitely not alone anymore. And, yeah, maybe she was still a mess and maybe she had nightmares still, but she could wake up afraid and find Weiss right next to her, and she’s reminded that she isn’t alone. 

Weiss sets the broom and dustpan against the island before coming over to help Yang look at her foot. “Oh, that isn’t bad,” Weiss says, easily swiping the glass from her skin. “Just that piece? Or is there more?”

Yang shakes her head. “Think that’s it.”

Weiss nods. “You sweep, I’ll catch.” She strolls back to the broom and disconnects the dustpan, tossing Yang the handle of the broom. They make quick work of the glass, and Weiss dumps the glass into the trash. “Look at that! Teamwork.”

“How many hands does it take to clean up a broken glass? Three.” Yang raises her stump and wiggles it. Weiss laughs. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Weiss says with a smile. “I’m sure your arm is on its way here. It’s been a couple weeks.”

Yang wraps her arm around her neck. “If you don’t mind helping me when I break stuff, I couldn’t care less if it gets lost in the mail.”

Weiss rests her arms on Yang’s shoulders, her hands loosely playing with her hair. “Well, if you don’t mind, I don’t mind either.” 

“I do miss riding a motorcycle, though.” She admits, and Weiss drops her head against Yang’s chest. She can feel her smile against her skin. “Dad said he’s been fiddling with some piece of junk in the shed.”

“Maybe it’s your birthday gift.”

“Maybe,” Yang answers. 

This is what she’d always longed for when she was younger. Someone who gets her, who understands why she’s the way she is, who makes her feel secure and steady. Weiss is all that and more. She presses a kiss to the top of her head, and Weiss returns the kiss to her chest. They stay like that for a while, holding each other in the kitchen, continuing even when Tai pushes them to the side so he can make a cup of coffee. 

“You got a box yesterday, kiddo,” Tai says in passing, ruffling her hair before returning to wherever he emerged from. Weiss raises her head, a knowing smile on her face. Yang’s sure it’s her arm, but she’s reluctant to disengage from Weiss.

Weiss removes her fingers from Yang’s curls to cup her cheeks. “Let’s check it out.”

They hold hands as Weiss leads the way to the mail pile by the front door. Sure enough, there’s a box, oblong enough to be an arm, and the two of them sit face-to-face on the couch as Yang opens the package. Weiss is smiling, and it makes Yang’s heart flutter, how obvious it is that she loves her. There’s a box in the box, and the inner box has a clasp that Yang easily pops open, and she looks at the metal arm in front of her. She was hoping that some of the accents would be salvageable, but it’s not as though she doesn’t still have yellow spray paint in the shed. 

Weiss gives it a look before scowling. “This isn’t your arm.”

“Well, yeah, I bet Dr. Polendina had to rebuild it from scratch—”

“This is a left arm.”

Is it? She picks it up and sure enough, the thumb is to the outside, the pinky facing her flesh thumb. “Well, that’s nice.”

Weiss has her scroll out when Yang looks away from her not-arm, and she holds up her finger as she holds her scroll to her ear, walking toward the kitchen. She’s able to catch a couple angry words in Atlesian, and Yang makes a face at her, and Weiss scrunches up her nose and sticks her tongue out at Yang during an obvious lull. There’s some more back and forth, and then Yang can properly eavesdrop when she switches back to Hightongue. “I think there was a mix-up with Yang’s arm, Ironwood.” No title, no polite introduction. Weiss is pissed. Which Yang gets, she guesses, since Yang has broken about four glasses and at least one plate in the past three weeks. And Yang can see the other side, too: it’s got to be busy considering that society is kind of a mess. “It’s a left hand! Of course it’s the wrong arm, and I’m about to come up there and beat you with it myself.”

Yang takes that as her cue to wrestle the scroll from Weiss, who has her jaw clenched too tight and her brows furrowed. “Okay, my turn, take a walk, cupcake.” Weiss’ brows relax just a bit, and she retreats into the kitchen, grumbling under her breath in Atlesian. “Hi, sorry about that. She’s tired of cleaning up my messes.”

Ironwood releases a breathy laugh. _“She just wants you back in one piece. Can’t say I blame her. We’ve been a bit busy here, and there must’ve been a mix-up. There should be a serial number on the arm you got, under a panel at the side of the palm.”_

Yang walks back to the couch and holds the scroll against her ear with her shoulder. She fiddles with the hand what she can, and somehow, she manages to pop a secret button to flip up a panel, and she reads off the number to Ironwood. “And I only needed one hand.”

_“That definitely isn’t your serial number. I’ll be in contact with the person who might have yours, and I’ll get it sent to you as soon as possible. In the meantime, could you have that arm sent back?”_

“I’m not paying for shipping back to Atlas.”

_“Put the arm back in the box and write ‘return to sender’ on it.”_

Ah. That was certainly a solution. Weiss is watching her around a cup of coffee, and Yang blows her a kiss. “Yeah. I want my arm back ASAP, asshole.”

_“Noted.”_

The line clicks off, and Yang offers Weiss her scroll. “How the hell did you get directly to Ironwood’s office?”

“I know people,” Weiss says with a grin. “Also: I am not tired of cleaning up your messes. I’ll always be happy to help you with whatever you need.”

Yang kisses her forehead. “You’re fantastic. Help me write “return to sender” on the box. And maybe some expletives.”

**Author's Note:**

> "zwei linke hände haben" is to have two left hands. The english equivalent is feet instead of hands, which literally means to be clumsy. i like to think that i've got this whole "double meaning in one fic" thing down.


End file.
